


Talk Shit, Get Hit

by juliannos



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Written Pre-Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliannos/pseuds/juliannos
Summary: Many a mouth has broken a nose and Cullen learns this lesson the hard way.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 3





	Talk Shit, Get Hit

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I found the other day. It was written Pre-Inquisition, so some things may seem OOC!

Never had she wished to hit someone before. Sure, she had been in more than one battle at this point, but the overwhelming feeling of wanting to cause physical harm to another person was a little new.  I could just hit him hard enough to break his nose,  she thought.  Surely it would be satisfying. 

  


The current object of her anger was standing across from her, glaring down with his arms crossed. Maker, he always tried to appear so… self-righteous. It made her feel a little ill, if she was being honest with herself.

  


If she took a second to glance around the war room (which she wouldn’t because she was not losing this staring contest), she would see that most of them were watching the exchange with amused looks. She may have even caught a glimpse of Varric taking bets among them. But she didn’t, because all Amaria Trevelyan could think about was the satisfying sound of his nose breaking under her fist.

  


For the past three hours, the Templar - as that is how she currently referred to him in her thoughts - had criticized all her propositions and plans for their upcoming offensive. Not that she minded criticism. Many in her inner circle were far more experienced than she and she wished for them to feel open expressing any concerns they had. It had saved more than few lives over the past several months. 

  


And that’s how this meeting started, at least. She had been outlining a plan to attack a group of Red Templars that had recently moved into a small village in Ferelden. Being a mage, she had no love of these newly formed Templars, who seemed to be more fanatic than the normal ones. Given that there was one of these normal templars within their ranks, she expected him to have a few comments or critiques of the plan. He knew them best after all, and she begrudgingly acknowledged that she  may have a bias. But only a small one.

  


“A frontal assault like that will only do more harm to your troops than them,” he had said, reaching over to move one the pieces representing the Inquisition’s troops. “Though, I would have thought our commander would know that.” The barbs against her leadership had began early today. But they had only gained more traction as the meeting had gone on.

  


“Surely you were aware of that fact, Inquisitor.” Well, she was  now.

  


“Perhaps it would be best if you let one of your subordinates handle that particular assault.” That was the plan, if only he’d let her get a word in now and then.

  


“That’s far too many troops for such a simple offensive. Move some of them to Cumberland, we need to hold that more.” Cumberland had remained secure even with their small force stationed there, why should they need more?

  


On and on it had gone. She had clenched and unclenched her hands so many times they were beginning to get sore from overuse. Finally it had come to a head with his latest comment.

  


They were nearing the end of the different campaigns that she had planned to cover today. The biggest mission, the one she would be leading herself, was to venture into the Western Approach, a dry and dangerous area, but now currently being occupied by a fade tear. Amaria was concerned of a mixing of the spirits of the Fade that was surely pouring out of the crack and the darkspawn that inhabited the area, so she felt that this particular tear should be closed next.

  


“This is ridiculous,” the Templar said. “We have bigger problems than a tear that is obviously not harming anything.”

  


“And how would you know that?” she asked, gritting her teeth. “We have little to no evidence of the effects these tears have on the Darkspawn, if any. I feel that it’s worth checking out and if we close a tear in the process, all the better.”

  


“Well, if the rest of this campaign in any indication,” he responded, crossing his arms. “Your judgement is not exactly to be trusted.”

  


Amaria told herself not to be affected by his comment. She knew from the beginning of this fragile alliance of theirs he did not trust her leadership, mainly due to her magical talents. But this was the last straw.

  


Slamming her fist down on the table, she turned to face him fully. “May I asked what exactly is your issue with me? For you have made it painfully clear you don’t like me, nor do you trust me judgement.” She spread her hands out in front of her. “Please, air out any grievances you have. it will better for all of us if you go ahead tell us all exactly what you think of me so we can move on to more pressing matters.”

  


She saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. “I think this is a pressing matter,” he answered. “If we cannot trust those who lead us, how are we supposed to follow their orders? You have no experience, at least none that we are aware of, in leadership. The only reason you are accepted as the head of this organization is because of an accident - one that should have killed you. And yet, here you stand. It does make one wonder why  you were spared when other men were not.”

  


The emphasis he place on “you” made her narrow her eyes in suspicion. Not only was he suggesting that there were other people far more suited to her position, but also that there was something in particular about her that was unfit. 

  


“Ser Cullen,” one of the others in room said, speaking up. Leliana, she realized. She had almost forgotten they were also here witnessing this exchange. “That’s a bit unfair. Amaria has led us into any number of encounters, and we have emerged victorious each time.”

  


“It is not only her leadership I question,” he bit back, looking like he wanted to hit something as much as she did.

  


There seemed be confusion for a moment among the group. Amaria, however, knew exactly what he was referring to. “If you have a problem with my abilities, Ser, you should just come out and say so,” she ground out. “At least that way none of us a chance of being left in the dark.”

  


“Fine,” he agreed, although he tone would suggest otherwise. “Your magical abilities coupled with that brand makes you a little more than dangerous. How do we know that you're not possessed. Or worse, actively working with these demons to ensure their survival in this world.”

  


She scoffed. “If that were true, why would I be working so hard to close these rifts in the first place!” she exclaimed. “Besides, Cassandra has been closely watching me from the moment she realized I was only the only one to survive. If something was awry she would have noticed by now!”

  


Amaria started laughing, slightly overtaken by hysterics. She rounded on the Templar, poking him in his chest piece. “Admit it, you want me chained up so you can watch and observe me, only pulling out into the field when you deemed me useful!”

  


He gazed down at her a moment, the tick in his jaw returning. She almost wanted him to say it, to confirm her suspicions all along. It would be good to know that she was correct about her first impression of the man and he really was as prejudiced as he seemed.

  


“Well,” he finally said, his voice muffled by his gritted teeth. “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

  


She did learn one thing that day: nailing the self-righteous Ser Cullen with a right hook was  definitely  satisfying. 

  


~*~

  
  
  
  
  
  
After her punch, Amaria stalked out of the war room, briskly dismissing everyone from the chamber. Varric, while feeling a bit sorry for the former Knight Captain and his gushing nose, also felt amused - and slightly richer than he had been before this incident. He watched as Vivienne, who had been the nearest to him when the Inquisitor surprised them all by punching Cullen, attempted to help him by offering to heal his nose. He merely waved her away, glaring at her with an undignified expression. He only stuck around for a few more minutes for storming out of the room as well.

  


He often wondered at Amaria’s decision to recruit the templar. He was good to have around, certainly, especially with the numerous dealings they've had with fade creatures over the last few months, but surely she knew they would butt heads. Or maybe… maybe she accepted him to please the Chantry. It didn’t have the power it used but it still held sway. Having a Templar among their ranks would better endear them to her, especially as was essentially an apostate mage and would still give some credence to the Inquisition being a religious, even if only in name these days.

  


That seemed like a better explanation, if the boring one. Though when we first arrive to Skyhold Keep, she seemed to genuinely want make him feel welcome. She would go out of her way to ask for his opinions, make sure that his thoughts were heard. They even went of a few missions outside of the keep together. But Cullen didn’t seem to want to to do his part.

  


Varric couldn’t really fathom why he had agree to join them. He had not been present when he was recruited nor had Amaria told him about the incident. Usually, that wouldn’t stop him from finding out something, but Cassandra had merely told him it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

  


But no one could stop him from taking a some poetic license could they? He most likely theory, even the most bland, was that with the Circles in chaos and the structure of the Chantry all but dissolved, he had few other places to turn. Varric personally hoped it was because he had fallen madly in love with their dear Inquisitor at first sight, but after today’s outburst it seemed like that theory was out. As well… didn’t mean he couldn’t use it as a plot in his next book anyway.

  


He heavy sigh at the thought managed to attract the attention of Sera, who was standing nearby. “What’s with the face? It’s not like you just got punched,” she said. “Or verbally berated in front of all your subordinates.”

  


“Not all of the subordinates,” she said grinning. “It’s going to take a few hours for it to truly reach them all. 

  


“Still,” she sighed. “It’s got to be embarrassing.”

  


“They were going to butt heads at some time or other,” Varric said. “Better it be now, and let them get it out of their systems, than later and possibly in front of some dignitary.” Sera grunted in agreement, though she didn’t look happy at the thought. Varric couldn't help but agree. Any dissention would cause trouble for the rest of them.

  


Well, they could hope it would work itself out quickly, couldn’t they?

  


~*~

  


Cullen cradled his nose was he stalked towards his quarters in the keep. He knew he probably looked extremely foolish storming through the halls, his hand covering his nose and blood dripping down his chin. He should have taken Vivienne up on her offer to heal him, but at the moment, the thought of any mage anywhere near him, never mind using their magic on him, was not appealing.

  


The gall of that woman! he thought, clenching his jaw. He desperately wished to hit something, go a few rounds in the practice yard, anything to get this anger out of his system. He was just going to have to settle with making as much noise as possible as he crossed the Keep.

  


Cullen pushed open a door with his shoulder, walking out into the main courtyard. He briefly wondered how many people had heard about the incident in the war room. He had no illusions that it would soon be gossiped about all over the keep, but he certainly hoped news didn’t travel that fast.

  


Several of the men turned to watch as he stalked across the yard, leaning to whisper to each other. He turned to glare in what he hoped was a menacing manner, but he doubted it. Nevertheless many of them abruptly turned their gazes away from him as soon as Cullen’s eyes met theirs. He grunted, continuing on his way.

  


By the time he had returned his rooms he had calmed down some, though his mood was hardly better than before. With a disgruntled kick, he managed to open the door and shuffled over to the basin of water in the corner. Reaching for a linen cloth, he dipped it into the water before moving to wash the blood from his face.

  


He had no idea whether or not his nose was still bleeding, he didn’t feel like it was. After gingerly cleaning up, he began to feel his nose to see if it had been broken. It didn’t feel that way, but he figured he might go to the infirmary later just in case. Continuing to use the cloth from before, he pressed it against his nose, hoping that the bleeding would stop soon.

  


He had to admit, some part of him was impressed. Cullen would have figured she would have thrown a fireball or use her powers in some way, not a nice, normal, punch. He knew he was goading her today. Perhaps it had been petty. Perhaps he should have brought up his concerns in private.  Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

  


She had borne his criticism well enough at first, but her ever rising frustration had brought him more joy than he really cared to admit. He prided himself on maintaining a facade of impartiality, but even he seemed to have a weakness.

  


He had made it known from the beginning of their tenuous partnership that he distrusted her abilities. She seemed to accept that, and even attempted to go out of her way to make him welcome to the group - which he summarily ignored, preferring to maintain a professional relationship. After some time, she seemed to accept that as well.

  


As time went on, however, it was made painfully apparent to him that she had no experience with the act of leading. On that he could not remain silent. Perhaps following another leader who had… made some poor choices in terms of leadership had made him overly sensitive to the issue. But he knew what poor choices meant: good men were killed. The Inquisition was gaining power, but no organization was ever in a position to lose manpower when they could prevent it with smart strategies. 

  


He shook his head, willing the memories of Kirkwall away. Realizing that his nose had finally stopped bleeding, he dropped the cloth to the side of the basin, making a mental note to dispose of it later. He walked across the room and slumped onto his bed, moving to rest his head in his hands.

  


Few among their ranks seemed to agree with his estimations of the Inquisitor, though. He thought for a while he may have an ally in Cassandra, but with each day it seemed she began to respect the woman more and more.

  


He groaned, falling back to lay on the bed. He supposed the next time he should bring up his concerns in private. The Inquisitor had made it clear that she valued any input. She had more than forthcoming about her concerns of his background - he should offer her the same courtesy. Even if he did not completely trust her, she had also given him no real reason to despise her either.

  


Nothing like a little retrospection to make someone feel like an ass.


End file.
